This Could Be Love
by storry-eyed
Summary: Jim Kirk runs from everything good in his life - except with regards to one particular thing, when he just can't. Luckily, Spock has no intention of letting him. K/S slash, part of the Song Collection.


**A/N: **Based on the song "(I've Had) The Time of My Life" as sung by the Glee Cast. Sort of a character piece on Jim Kirk, I suppose. K/S slash by the end. Part of the Song Collection. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Kirk and Spock, sadly, are not mine; I only get to play with them, and I'm not making any money off of this.

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_Just remember -  
__You're the one thing I can't get enough of  
__So I'll tell you something -  
__This could be love_

_~(I've Had) The Time of My Life, _Glee Cast

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Jim Kirk is not the kind of person to say around for very long when he doesn't love someone - or even when he does, really.

He doesn't have relationships – he has flings, one-night stands, you name it – as long as it doesn't last more than a few days, he's fine with anything. He runs from commitment, from responsibility – at first he makes up reasons, never the same one twice, but when he gets the _Enterprise_ that's the perfect excuse; hell, she's a full-time partner and besides, he could never have asked for more. But truthfully, he's afraid, scared that if he allows himself to form any sort of attachment whoever it is will run, like they always have, and he'll be left broken and more alone than he has ever been in his life. So he runs before that can happen, because he can deal with that much better than he can the pain of abandonment. But unconsciously, for his whole life, he's been looking for the one person who would be brave enough to push through all his barriers and his mask and chase after him when he runs, because they love him for who he is, in spite of his flaws and because of them. But Jim doesn't think he'll ever find them, so he keeps running.

Bones is the only one that he manages to stay with, or who manages to stay with him, Jim's not sure which. The man simply refuses to let Jim go – he's his best friend and most loyal supporter, through thick and thin, ever since that day on the transport, no matter what. And with Bones, it's _easy_, as natural as breathing, and Jim makes himself be content with this thing that he never thought he'd be able to have – friendship – and tells himself that he never wanted more, no, never, how could he? He's not selfish and he never has been. And he does love Bones, he does, really. But somewhere deep inside him, he can't help but feel like he wants something more – but not from Bones, from someone else. And that thought is so selfish that he doesn't let himself think about it any longer.

But when he meets the Vulcan, Spock, for the first time, he can't help but wonder, whether he's _the one_. He dismisses the thought because he doesn't have time to worry about it in the midst of everything that's going on, and besides Spock is the exact wrong person to feel this way about. But the thought just keeps coming back, and he can't make the question go away, no matter how hard he tries.

Jim's never met anyone like him before – Spock hides behind a mask of emotions, solid, calm, unaffected by anything, unwavering in his devotion. But he's seen Spock lose it before, and usually that kind of thing scares Jim, but not this time. It just makes Spock more of a puzzle, and Jim Kirk has never been one to shy away from a challenge – Spock is simply _fascinating_, to use one of his favorite words – and Jim can't stop thinking about him, every second of every day.

He can't help the acute feeling of relief he feels when Spock becomes his First Officer; he never even thought of refusing when Spock asked. He's a wonderful addition to the bridge, of course, and honestly Jim can't imagine the _Enterprise _without him. But more than that, Jim can't let him go. There's so much hiding behind that Vulcan calm that makes Jim itchto find out everything he can, every personality quirk, every hidden secret. And he ignores the little voice that tells him he's getting much more dependent on this Vulcan than is good for him.

He can't help but notice Bones's knowing smile, the one his friend always wears when he knows something Jim doesn't – which happens so infrequently that it always makes Jim crazy, because he _knows _he should know why Bones looks like that but he just can't figure it out – or maybe he just won't let himself.

So over the first few days, and then weeks, and eventually months of the _Enterprise's _missions, during missions and dinner tables and briefing rooms and near-death experiences and chess games, Jim begins peeling back the layers that make up the disturbingly complex Vulcan-human person Spock is. He keeps waiting to get tired of him, like he has with everyone other than Bones, keeps waiting for the age-old boredom and depression to set in and for them to lose interest in each other. Because while Jim has been meticulously memorizing every little thing about Spock, Spock has been doing the same to Jim.

And eventually Jim realizes that he sees himself in Spock, and that while he's been trying to pull Spock out of his shell he's been hoping that Spock will pull him out of his, in the same way Bones did and yet not in the same way. And he thinks _that's _why Spock's so fascinating and that now that he's figured it out, he'll lose interest in him and move on. But he doesn't, and it might be maddening if he wasn't so damn _happy _about it, and Jim truly can't understand it until one night when he's had yet _another _nightmare, and in some state between sleep and wakefulness the light bulb goes off and Jim sits bolt upright in bed.

Because the reason he hasn't gotten tired of Spock is that he's finally found what he's been looking for all along, a partner, an equal, someone to love. All the pieces fall into place and Jim feels like he's been hit over the head with something heavy. _That's_ what this is – maybe, possibly, this could be love.

And although he's rejoicing at the possibility, Jim can't help the depression that sweeps over him at the same time, because he's _absolutely sure _that now that he's figured it out this will be the end and he will lose what is possibly the most important thing that has ever happened to him, the most important person who has ever walked into his life. And he can't bear for that to happen again.

So before it can happen he pushes Spock away himself, distancing them so rapidly he feels it like a gaping hole in his chest. Jim Kirk runs faster than he's ever run from anyone, because he's afraid that if he doesn't, he'll never be able to run before Spock runs himself. And Bones isn't smirking anymore, he's worried, and Spock's upset – Jim can read his emotions like an open book now that he knows what to look for – and he wants to scream or throw something or maybe just cry because he doesn't know what to do and he feels helpless, and Jim Kirk hates that feeling.

And so when Spock corners him in the hallway outside his quarters and asks – no, demands – to know what's wrong, and follows Jim into his quarters when he tries to literally run, Jim can't believe that Spock is still here, and for the first time in his life his brain lets his heart take over. Everything comes spilling out of his chest in a huge flood that he couldn't stop even if he tried, and he doesn't want to anyway, so he tells Spock everything, literally _everything_ – how he can't get enough of Spock but at the same time is afraid that if he takes too much it'll all be over, just like every other time in his life, and so he's run and run and run but now he's too tired to run any longer.

But there's something in Spock's eyes that makes Jim's heart stop, because Spock looks like Jim sometimes does, scared but determined and a hope begins to blossom in Jim's chest, and Spock adds that he finds Jim simply… _fascinating _as well, and then there's something blazing bright in Spock's eyes that Jim has never seen there before, and suddenly he's drowning and he can't think and so he kisses Spock as hard as he can. And Jim's kissed who-knows-how-many people in his lifetime, so he thinks he knows what's coming when their lips meet, but he doesn't, he doesn't, it's like nothing he's ever experienced before and the answer is so obvious that Jim feels incredibly stupid.

Because this is _love_, the kind he's been looking for his whole life, and he can't believe he wasted all this time being worried he would fall out of love with Spock, because how could he ever do that when Spock was as incredible and fascinating and intricate and vulnerable and strong as he is, just like Jim himself, and Jim knows that he could and he will spend the rest of his life getting to know Spock just as deeply as he knows himself – and perhaps even more so – because they are truly two halves of a whole, joined together at last.

And Spock assures him that he has the same plans for Jim himself, and that all this time he had exactly the same fears as Jim himself did, and so they kiss each other's doubts away and it's so perfect that Jim feels like could drown in happiness. But Spock promises to be right there beside him all the way, and Jim knows that that's all he's ever wanted his whole life long, and isn't it the best feeling in the world, being loved, he asks Spock, and Spock kisses him and whispers that yes, it is – the best feeling in the world.

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!

FL7


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